With the fall of Fort Henry, we started toward Fort Donelson. The
roads were muddy and the country hilly, making the marching hard work.
About 3 o’clock p. m. of February 12, 1862, the distant booming of
cannon told us all too plainly that we were near the enemy, and we were
urged to greater speed. When within two miles of the fort a group of
officers passed us, among them Gen. Grant, Gen. W. H. L. Wallace, Col.
Oglesby and others. We were ordered to unsling knapsacks and leave them
in company piles, with a guard over them, and then away we went over
hills, valleys and ravines, through the woods and dense thickets. After
having marched about a mile and a half we were halted, darkness having
arrived. The night was very chilly and cold. Our boys had left their
knapsacks two miles to the rear and were without blankets. Cold, hungry
and disappointed, we shivered during that long, dreary night, and
began to realize what an earnest, cruel thing a soldier’s life was. But
it was our first experience, and we knew nothing about making ourselves
comfortable. We learned better after a while and always carried our
blankets with us, whether in battle or not. It is the best plan to
always have a blanket with you. During the night it rained and turned
very cold. We were forbidden to leave the lines, hence could not go
back for our blankets. Will gathered up a pile of leaves and crept into
them, but this did not keep him warm, and becoming cold he got up and
paced back and forth to try to keep warm.
At the first streak of day--February 13, 1862--the enemy bade us good
morning by sending us a shell that burst close to our lines, but doing
little damage. The boys were mad and, gathering their muskets, said:
“Let’s show them that we are not to be shot at without returning the
compliment,” but our officers were not ready to give us a chance.
The battle was on, however, at other points of the line, and at last
we were to have our hearts’ desires, namely, of having a shot at the
enemy. We were moved shortly to the right and formed in line with our
brigade.
About noon our General, W. H. L. Wallace, sent the 48th Illinois to
attack what looked like a small redoubt to the left and front of us.
This regiment gallantly attacked and fought desperately for some time,
but losing their Colonel, they fell back, and then Gen. Wallace ordered
the 45th Illinois to go to their aid. Now the time had come for us to
show what stuff we were made of; now had come the time to do what we
had promised our loved ones at home--to fight gallantly for the dear
old flag. The orders of our Colonel were:
“Attention, battalion! Fix bayonets; shoulder arms; right shoulder
shift, arms. Forward, march!” and all moved toward the enemy’s works
over very rough ground. The redoubt of the enemy was on a hill, the
ground sloping down toward us, while the trees and brush had been cut
down to retard our progress. Presently the bullets began to sing about
our heads: _zip, ping, ping_, and as we climbed the hill we were met by
a murderous fire of musketry; the men were falling in bunches and the
enemy poured into us grape and canister from their cannons.
When we got close enough the order to fire was given, and we boys sent
our first lead into the enemy who showed themselves on top of the
breastwork. The firing on both sides was brisk, but our Colonel would
not let the men advance any farther. He knew we could not climb over
the trench in front of the breastworks and scale the works. We fought
an hour at great disadvantage, when the order was given to slowly
retire. We had smelt powder for the first time and had heard the whiz
of the minie-ball, many of our brave comrades making the greatest
sacrifice a man can make for his country. They had given their lives
for the flag.
The gunboats on the river side of the fort had been doing valiant
work, but had suffered badly at the hands of the enemy. The flagship
St. Louis, had her steering wheel shattered, the pilot was killed, and
Admiral Foote was wounded. The flagstaff was shot away and Captain J.
V. Johnston, fastening the flag to his arm, walked the deck and gave
the signals.
For the interest of my young readers, I must tell you about Captain
Johnston’s little boy, Master James Vincent Johnston, aged about 8
years at the time. Captain Johnston’s wife and little boy were visiting
him on the gunboat when the enemy opened fire from an unseen battery on
the shore. The Captain had tied the boy by his mother’s side in one of
the cabins, but he succeeded in untying himself and ran off among the
gunners, where he seemed to take great delight during the excitement.
Presently the Captain came along and met the little fellow carrying a
pouch of powder. His father was surprised, and asked him where he got
his load. The child answered:
“Why, Tommy had his head shotted off over there an’ I’m carrying the
powder,” and he ran to the gun carrying his load.
The Captain let him have his way and little Jimmy was the hero of the
battle, and the sailors called him “Admiral Jimmie.”
After the unsuccessful attack on the fort we again took our places in
the line with our brigade. During the night the cold was intense and
the men suffered much; some perished, icicles hanging from the caps of
the sentinels. Our grub at this time was very scarce. We learned better
later on in the war to always carry a good supply of hard tack in
our haversacks for just such emergencies.
[Illustration: General Grant examining a prisoner’s haversack at Fort
Donelson]
Towards evening some prisoners were captured and were taken to General
Grant, who examined their haversacks and found them well filled with
rations. The General reasoned from this fact, that the enemy were
preparing to make their escape, which they did try to do the next day.
Soon after dark some of us were detailed to dig trenches and assist
in erecting breastworks for the artillery. The Seventh Corporal was
detailed to take charge of the squad, but it being so bitter cold he
feigned sickness and turned the squad over to Will. He took his place
and did the best he could, getting no sleep at all during the night.
The next morning Jim asked Will how he liked his job. “Oh,” said Will,
“the job was all right, but I’ll tell you, Jim, I think less of that
Seventh Corporal than I did before, because of that little trick of
his.”
During the night the Confederate Generals held a council of war and
decided to mass their troops on our right the next morning, and cut
their way out and escape.
Just as the first faint streaks of light came over the hills, so also
came the compliments from the enemy, in the shape of iron shells from
their cannons. McAllister’s battery returned the salutation in earnest
and the battle was on again. Saturday, February 15, 1862, the enemy
massed 10,000 troops opposite General McClernand’s division, on our
right, and advanced upon our line, the pickets being fired upon before
dawn.
The order, “Fall in,” was given and in a few minutes the woods rang
with rattle of musketry and the roar of cannon. The enemy were
determined to turn our right flank and escape. The battle raged
fiercely for an hour and a half, and then came a lull. Colonel Forrest
with his dashing cavalry made a charge on our lines at one point
and captured one of our batteries. The fighting at other points all
along the line that stretched for over three miles was heavy. About 10
o’clock our troops upon the extreme right ran out of ammunition, and
Gen. Oglesby’s brigade had to fall back.
General Lew Wallace now came up with fresh troops, their cartridge
boxes full, and those that had fallen back having now received plenty
of cartridges re-formed their lines and again took part in the fight to
drive the enemy back into their breastworks.
On the left of our lines a charge on the works had been ordered by
Gen. Grant, and Gen. C. F. Smith, leading the boys in blue, placed
his hat on his swordpoint and holding it aloft, cried out: “This way,
boys; come on,” and the boys followed their courageous leader amidst
a terrible hail of minie-balls and cannon shot. The 2nd, 7th, 12th
and 14th Iowa and the 25th Indiana Regiments engaged in this charge,
planting their colors on the outer works, the enemy falling back to
an inner breastwork. There was more or less fighting all day, but we
finally drove the enemy back into their fort and had them cooped up and
nearly surrounded.
During the battle in front of our lines, one of our company was wounded
and went a few rods to the rear and sat down behind a tree. The
Lieutenant Colonel seeing him there and thinking he was skulking went
at him fiercely, saying: “Gill, get back into line.” Now, Gill was an
odd genius, slow of speech and having a peculiar drawl in his manner of
speaking, replied: “I guess not, Colonel; I’m wounded.”
“Where are you wounded?”
“In the breast, Colonel.”
The Colonel still having his doubts, asked where the ball hit him.
Gill, raising his finger and covering the track of the bullet, said:
“It went skewaggling this a way.”
Sure enough, a minie-ball had torn a hole clear across his breast,
making an ugly looking flesh wound. Gill remained behind the tree until
told to go and see the surgeon.
It is a fact that many new words were coined during the Civil War, some
of them coming into general use and finding place in the dictionaries.
So far I have not seen Gill’s new word in the dictionaries, but surely
it was a most apt description of how he was wounded.
Another member of our company was taking his coffee from the fire in
the early morning when a stray, spent bullet from the enemy struck him
in the head and knocked him down. He was taken back a short distance
and the surgeon extracted a bullet flattened out and lying just under
the scalp. He recovered, but the boys called him “Old bullet-proof
skull,” or “Old hard head,” after that.